


No One Messes With Our Waiter

by Aida



Series: 30 Day AU Challenge [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Basically I wrote them as greasers, Gen, Maybe more greaser!AU than anything, Some possible triggers, and Bilbo's a waiter in a diner, just FYI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 13:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo hates greasers, even when they save the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Messes With Our Waiter

**Author's Note:**

> I finally wrote something for this prompt that I'm somewhat pleased with. SOMEWHAT.
> 
> Also, TRIGGERS: Part of the story is that Bilbo gets attacked. There's no real description of it, and it only happens through a few sentences, but just as a heads up for you guys. If you read it and think I'm being paranoid, well, I'm just being cautious.
> 
> Plus, special thanks to aloneindarknes7, who made a comment on my tumblr when I was stumped, and they helped spurn this on. So yes. Thank you for the comment (I have no idea how to reply to those WTF I'm such a n00b)!

Bilbo hated the greasers. 

The more-than-dozen group of men in their varying teenage years that wore leather jackets and too much hair oil, slicking back their hair and doing absolutely nothing with their lives, from what he could tell. All except a small few didn’t constantly get on his nerves, but such ideas vanished when they all cloistered together, shouting and laughing, whistling and cat-calling. 

They liked to go to the diner he worked at, of all places, just to request him as a server and harass him endlessly with ridiculous orders and even more ridiculous name-calling. When it first started happening, he had blushed and stammered, barely able to finish dealing with him. Nowadays, it rolled off his back easily enough, and they didn’t try to make it worse. 

At least they always seemed to leave him a generous tip. He could just deal without the mess… And the aborted butt-pinching. 

“Excuse me.”

Bilbo looked at the man he had just served coffee to. He seemed pleasant enough, though his stare was slightly unnerving. He was also dressed far too finely for a diner such as this one.

“Yes?” He asked, plastering on a smile. “Something else I can get you?”

“Those boys, over there.” The man said, glaring at the greasers as two of them began tossing fries at each other. “Are they causing you any trouble?”

“Wha…?” Bilbo murmured, looking towards them before shrugging. “Well, no moreso than usual. To be honest, I’ve gotten used to it by now.”

The man frowned. “You really shouldn’t have to.” He stated. “You should kick them out.”

“Oh… Oh, _no_ , I wouldn’t do that.” Bilbo sputtered out. “I mean, they’re not _all_ bad… just create a mess more than anything.”

“Still…”

“Are they truly bothering you, sir?” Bilbo cut in before the man could continue.

Said man pressed his lips together. “… No.”

“Then please enjoy your coffee, and let me know when you’re ready to order anything else.” He concluded. “I appreciate your concern, but really, there’s nothing to worry about.”

The man looked like he wanted to press the issue, but one of the greasers called out for him, and he rushed off to see what else they needed.

**xxx**

It was nighttime before Bilbo could finally go home, glad that it was the weekend and that the greasers tipped as generously as they usually did. The other man, the peculiar one, left him with hardly anything.

“Probably actually did have a problem with them.” He muttered as he began his walk home, wishing that he could drive in a car like the greasers had. Or one of said cars. Perhaps one that wasn’t so loud.

As he pondered on such things, he didn’t notice the figure lurking in the shadows until they had yanked him into an alley.

“What the-Hey! Let me go!” He shouted, thrashing and fighting up until his attacker shoved him against the brick wall. Hard.

“Shut up!” The figure hissed, and Bilbo’s blood ran cold, for he recognized that voice. The man from before, with the coffee and the cherry pie. “If you scream, it’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

Bilbo whimpered, flinching as he felt those surprisingly strong hands push and shove around on his person. He shut his eyes, praying for it all to be over, and quickly, not hearing the sound of rushing feet. The sound of many rushing feet. 

“Get him!”

As soon as those hands let him go, he curled in on himself, covering his head when he heard shouts and screams, accompanied by the sound of fists and boots impacting on flesh. He waited for something to come back and hit him, and he flinched away when he felt hands grab his arm.

“Sorry, sorry! Easy, buddy, I’m just trying to get you out of the fray!”

Bilbo blinked, even as the stranger, grabbed his arm again and began to drag him out of the alleyway. He recognized that voice, as well, but he had a hard time placing it, since it usually spoke of peculiar innuendos.

“Okay, squat down, catch your breath.” The voice continued, guiding Bilbo to do just that as he knelt in front of him. “You alright? Well, obviously you’re not, but are you hurt?”

Bilbo blinked, for the streetlights helped him to see that it was who he originally thought. It was one of the greasers, the one who liked to wear ridiculous hats over his slick hair. 

“Ah… I-.”

“Is he alright?”

Bilbo blinked as the greaser in front of him turned to one of the younger ones with blonde hair.

“Yeah, I think he’ll be fine, Fee. Just a little spooked.”

“Good!” And with a wink that caused Bilbo to sputter, the greaser charged into the fray with something akin to a battle cry. 

The one in front of him chuckled. “Always excitable. Just like his brother, and his uncle before him.” He grumbled good-naturedly before narrowing his eyes at Bilbo again. “Are you okay?”

“I… I will be…” Bilbo finally answered, balling up his shaking hands. “I think.”

“Well, let’s hope so.” The greaser urged. “By the way, it’s Bofur.”

“Bofur?”

“My name, it’s Bofur.” The greaser replied with a wink. “I don’t think we’ve ever exchanged names before.”

“Well, you always seem to busy calling me ‘sweet cheeks’.” Bilbo groused, but it only made Bofur chuckle. 

“Well, we only call the people we like that.” He answered, and Bilbo didn’t think that it made it any better.

It took a while, and some shouting from Bofur, for the others to finally pull back from Bilbo’s attacker, who was groaning in the alley and looking worse for wear. To Bilbo’s shock, it appeared that all of the greasers had come to his rescue. Despite their mussed hair and some tears in their jeans and shirts, they were fine. They combed their hair and straightened themselves as they grumbled about Bilbo’s attacker, and he was so distracted by such a display, he didn’t notice that one had approached him until they poked at his shoulder.

“’Scuse me, Bilbo Boggins!” The greaser chirped. “Name’s Kee, and you dropped this!”

The greaser, Kee, then held up his bag. It looked a little scruffed and was covered in dirt, but otherwise pristine.

“Thank you…” Bilbo muttered, taking the proffered back. “Really, thank you all.”

“Don’t worry about it.” One of the larger greasers rumbled, and Bilbo never thought that a greaser would have two sides of his head shaved. “We always defend one of our own.”

“No one messes with our waiter.”

There were loud murmurs of agreement, and Bilbo blinked as another one of the larger ones approached him. He knew who it was even without his trademark shades and baseball bat. It was Thorin, the self-proclaimed “King” of the greasers.

“Now…” He grumbled out. “Shall we escort you home?”

He protested at first, but eventually relented to allowing the dozen or so leather-clad men follow him down the last two blocks and around the corner to his home. 

“Thank you… again…” Bilbo muttered, shivering a little. “Really, if there’s anything I could do-.”

But they all waved him off as Thorin merely smirked up at him. 

“We are all just happy to help.” He replied. “And if there’s anything else you need, just let us know.”

He would’ve been quite at peace at that, if not for the fact that Thorin then chose that moment to wink. “We’ll be there for you, sweet cheeks.”

Bilbo felt rage bubble more strongly at this familiar phrase as the greasers murmured their agreements. Scraping up some resolve, he finally stepped forward and looked up at Thorin.

“You just said that if there’s anything else you could do for me to let you know.”

Thorin nodded. “Yes…”

Bilbo let a smirk rise on his face as he stepped a little closer, seeing Thorin’s expression shift and heard wolf whistles rush through the group behind him. “Well, there’s one thing I can think of now…”

“Name it.” Thorin cut in quickly, adam’s apple bobbing. “You’ve got it.”

Bilbo grinned then before yanking his shirt collar down, quickly narrowing his eyes at the greaser and causing said greaser’s eyes to bulge.

“You will stop calling me sweet cheeks, hot stuff, and any other ridiculous name you can think of, then.” He replied, before shoving Thorin back into his group of surprised and amused greaser buddies.

Then, with a final wink as he opened his front door, he left some parting words for them all. 

“Do that, and I’ll stop spitting in your food. Then, I think we'll be even.”

**Author's Note:**

> MAYBE THIS NEXT ONE WON'T BE A PAIN IN THE ASS TO WRITE.
> 
> Superheroes...
> 
> ... Maybe I spoke too soon.


End file.
